Regenerate: Intermission
by doesnotloveyou
Summary: A canon series of brief one-shots from my fic "Regenerate".
1. Matt, Vince, & Logan

_\- Matthew, 2001 -_

He wrinkles his nose at her breath. Jackie tugs the bowtie and leans back. She giggles. "You look like a conductor."

Matthew tugs at the crooked tie. "It's too tight."

"Oh stop that," she smacks his hand, teetering as she does so, "you'll make me have to do it all over again."

She turns to walk out the door when she catches sight of herself in the mirror. Matthew rolls his eyes and walks past her. Jackie catches him by the collar with one manicured finger as she tries to fluff out her bangs with the other hand. "God, these are going out of style so quickly."

Matthew puffs at his own shaggy hair. "Mooooom."

"Yah, yah. Go get in the car."

"I look like a damn girl."

Jackie scrutinizes him and quirks her lips. "Yeah, maybe, Mattie."

"How many times do I have to tell you to quit calling him that?" Robert steps around the boy as he enters the room readjusting his cufflinks. "I didn't name him 'Madeline' I named him _Matthew_."

"You didn't name him at all." Jackie hiccups indignantly. "Matthew was my-"

"Can we possibly go ten minutes without you mentioning your dead relatives? Matt," Robert scrunches his brow, "go put on a real tie."

"You've _never _cared about my family!" Jackie raises an accusatory finger, blinking to make sure it's aimed at her husband.

"Oh please, we haven't the time to argue about-"

Matthew steps out into the hall and heads for the bathroom.

"You think I'm not going to divorce you? I swear I'll do it!"

"What would be the point? You've already drunk all my alcohol, what else is there for you to take?"

He finds the drawer full of Jackie's hair supplies and pulls out a long, gleaming pair of scissors. The verbal blows ricochet down the hall, bouncing off chairs, picture frames, doorknobs, before cavorting around the bathroom. All is lost on Matthew, cushioned by his own selective deafness as he calmly cuts off his hair.

...

\- _Vincent, 2006 -_

One wheel on the cart squeaks and wobbles as it trundles painfully down the aisle. Catherine remains expressionless as she goes through the routine. Canada Dry, Shasta Cola, Vanilla Crème. Her upper arm jiggles as she reaches for a pack of Miller. "I don't know _what _your uncle likes to drink, so he's on his own."

Vince refrains from responding as he walks down the opposite side of the aisle. The bleary linoleum scuffs under his soles. His brows furrow in annoyance at the sound of someone coming. He distances himself further from his mother as a pair of teenage girls passes by wordlessly.

_Fuck, I hate her. Like, slut much? First my brother and now my ex, what a bi…_

_…this can't be happening to me. I swear he was wearing a condom, I swear. Just get rid of it, Dad'll never know..._

Vince's headache throbs. Catherine looks askance at them, then at him. "Don't worry. They wouldn't want a loser like you anyway."

He ignores her, glancing up at the piñatas dangling shabbily over his head. A dingy yellow school bus leers at him with its stickered face. He rubs the back of his neck and keeps walking. The wheel screeches in agony.

_ ..._

_ \- Logan, 2009 -_

The greasy countertop catches the fluorescent lights dully, diffusing now and again for an ancient water ring. Decades of cigarettes have left their redolent traces in the walls and yellowing linoleum, reminding the patrons just how long death can linger.

Logan stubs out the Cohiba in the dingy glass tray and takes a drink. He doesn't like frequenting one bar for too long in a strange place. People start sniffing around. Especially if they think they've seen you on TV. He's a little pleased and a little bothered by his ability to peel off a clean bill. No more crumpled bet money from cage-fighting and other distasteful jobs.

The news natters away on a small set turned to face the barkeep. Heat waves, foreclosures, unemployment, and a missing billionaire. None of it means a damn thing.

Glass empty, bill paid, Logan begrudges himself an apathetic look in the wall-length mirror behind the bar. _You sure don't look like a schoolteacher. Definitely not a husband._

...

\- _Vincent, 2009 -_

There's a dim light in the room. He can just make out her soft silhouette, seated on the edge of the bed. She runs her fingers over his cheek and smiles, the corners of her eyes lifting. She somehow seems even lovelier in the dark. He smiles back, tempted to reach up and touch her face too.

Standing up, she walks gracefully over to the window. He sighs and sinks deeper into the blankets, at peace with himself. The blinds are raised with a startling noise, and she shouts suddenly,

"Wake up, wake up! Asshole, _wake up._"

Light bursts violently into the room, filling every corner with flame.

He jumps to his feet, instantly awake, frantically brushing leaves from his hair. John grabs him roughly by the front of his jacket, and together they crash through the undergrowth, taunting cries rebounding off the trees.


	2. The Potts Prerogative

**This bit was actually in Part One originally and comes before Matt's nightclub scene in the previous 'chapter', but after a bout of merciless revisions I cut it from the main story. Thus, here it resides as a one-shot because it stands on its own just fine. For readers who finished Part One before 5/22/16, you've already read this segment. For everyone else, please enjoy!**

* * *

_\- Tony &amp; Pepper, 2010 -_

Pepper sighs as she sends a text to the company board director. "You can't just adopt a teenager, Tony."

"Um, no, I wouldn't try-"

She looks at him across the seat. "You said you're paying back a favor, I think you've overpaid it."

"I offered her an internship with you, she didn't want it, she wanted to see the suit."

"Okay, well I think you should say goodbye now."

"Is this because I didn't tell you about the internship?"

"I'm not even sure why you told _her _about an internship."

"She's my student, I'm teaching her."

"The awkwardness has continued long enough-"

"You scare her."

"I- what?"

"It's true, she thinks you hate her."

"No, I don't _hate _her. Why would she think I hate her?"

He shrugs. "You obviously don't like having her around."

"Tony, this is really questionable stuff- Do her parents know?"

"Honestly, I don't think they care."

"Well, I care, and if she doesn't want to intern at _the company _then that's settled, she rejected your favor. The longer this goes on the harder it's going to be when you have to actually break it to her that she can't stay. Okay?"

"Well, I can't break it to her I don't want to yet-"

"See this is why-"

"-and since you're the one who doesn't want her around I think you should break it to her."

"_Excuse me? _This is _your _respons-"

"We're agreed. You do it."

"Oh no, this is _not _one of your cheap 'dates' that you make me send out the door. You are going to do this yourself and you're going to be a grown-up about it."

He rubs his eyebrows. "I can't."

"Why can't you?"

"She's a smart kid, she's learning fast and- Okay, you know, I'm doing something good for someone else, I'm being…selfless."

"You are unbelievable."

"I am, but that's beside the point."

"Tony. Tony. Enough. You've got a lot on your plate right now, and there's no time to fit an unofficial apprenticeship in there or whatever you want to call it."

Tony stares at the back of the seat in front of him, thinking. "That's perfect. Apprenticeship. Those still happen right, they're a thing? _Celebrity Apprentice_ only I have better hair than Don."

Pepper sighs with disgust. "Fine, Tony, expo or apprenticeship, you can choose one, but for legality's sake we need to _call her parents."_

"See, that's not a balanced trade-off. The expo is taking a googolplex of time, but it's a piece of cake if I show her how to install a converter, and she's seen Mark's one through three, but that's not cool, Pepper, alright. _Making _suits is cool."

"Yep, I'm so very done arguing with you tonight." Pepper picks up her phone again to address the seventeen messages missed while arguing with her boss.

Tony shrugs, content in believing he won the argument. Ruffling Pepper's feathers is always an enjoyable exercise, and he has no intention of turning away his new friend and admirer. But…it's not an ego trip, please. Ace is too mean to him to flatter his ego.


	3. The Doctor

_\- Ace &amp; the Doctor, 1985 -_

I slam the bolt and gasp so hard I cough. I turn too quickly and fall to my knees, scraping them against the metal grating. I look around, squinting. This is the biggest room I've ever been in.

The lights are blaring bright, some of them flickering and flashing. Crazy arches hold up the ceiling, and there's a giant, humming machine in the center of the room. It's warm here. Yes, the metal around me is warm, I'm not imagining it. I lay my face against the floor, tuck my numb feet into the stiff coat, and think about how much sleep I used to get in my cell and how tired I got of sleeping. Now I might sleep forever in this bright, warm room with a lock to keep people out. What a nice big room…

There's a buzzing noise near my head. I jump up right away, but my legs are useless and I fall backwards onto my rear, hitting my head on the door.

"Oh no, no, no! Sorrey!" the tall man says with a very hurt face. "I didn't mean to frighten you."

He kneels down to my level, his long brown coat like a tent around his legs. There are two heartbeats inside of him. "How'd you get in here, then? Did I leave the door open again?" Scrunchy-faced, he inspects the door over my head. "Oh, you bolted it yourself, what for, what's following you?"

I don't like all his questions so I growl and curl up tight.

"'Ey," he warns, "don't get grumb'ly with me. I'm not going to hurt you." He pockets the weird pen he was holding and gives me a sudden cheery smile. "I'm the Doctor. What's your name then?"

"I hate doctors," I say before coughing. Talking hurts. "Don't touch me."

"What have the doctors been doing?" His voice changes so often. It's dark and gray sounding now, and his eyes are hard and flat and the smile is gone from every part of his face.

"They hurt m-" I cough again and my throat burns and stings, but I keep coughing like I might never stop.

The doctor bounces up and running over to the big machine, pulls out a drawer. Before I'm done coughing he's back.

"Here," he fiddles with something small wrapped in sticky paper, "put this in your mouth and suck on it."

I don't want to, but then I see it's red, shiny, and too big to be medicine. I can't remember what the word for it is, but it's a good thing I remember. I take it quickly and put it in my mouth. I gag a little. It's not as sweet as I remember it being.

"That should make your throat feel better. Now." He slaps his knees and stands up. His shoes have stars on them. "That door is _locked_, no one can get in at all, ever. Except…sometimes…but only on _very_ specific occasions that _weren't_ my fault."

I'm still looking at his shoes and sucking on the bitter thing in my mouth. My throat does feel better. I look up at his face now and he's looking down at me with his funny, sticky-uppy hair and his pointy face. What a weird guy.

"Were the bad doctors following you?" he asks.

I nod, then shake my head, then don't know what to do. "I killed him, but the soldiers were following me."

"You killed him, wha-? How'd you kill him?"

"Well, maybe I didn't kill him." I test the red sucker between my teeth. "He burned my fingers if I cried during tests."

His eyes get big like pools of water. "Get away from the door, come over here, it's warmer by the console."

I follow him and he sweeps me onto a bench before running out of the room. I crack the sucker between my teeth. Candy. It's called candy. Candy tastes horrible.

He comes bounding back in and covers me in blankets. Then he changes his mind, removes all the blankets, takes away my coat and covers me in blankets again. A pair of fuzzy socks are produced and he stuffs my feet into them. They go up past my knees.

"Hm, I don't know if I have any clothes in _midget_."

I'm not short, but I giggle anyway. His smile is familiar, a medium smile that shows mostly in his eyes. It feels safe, so I smile back. Then I remember why I came in here. "Can you take me far away?"

His smile gets much, much bigger. "Oh, that I can."


	4. The Rift

**_OI!_ If you haven't yet read Ch. 40 of Regenerate, please don't read this chapter! Thanks.**

* * *

_\- Ace and the Doctor, ? -_

I giggle and pull on the string again. The room tilts.

"Whoaaah." He has a big smile. "Look at you. Boy, you learn fast, don't you?"

I move my hat a little, the big feather was falling in my eyes.

My doctor bounds over to the door. "Alright then, let's see where we are, eh?"

I slide off the bench and run after him, my big boots clonky over the noisy metal floor. He pops his head out the door and I squeeze around his coat to look out.

"What is it?" I ask, taking off the hat and leaving it by the door.

"Well…it's a city. Not quite sure which one though." He puckers his lower lip, making his chin disappear. I chew on a strand of my hair because the soap is so nice. Not in my eyes though.

"Grab that coat," he jabs his finger at a coat we found for me. I hurry to put it on, and put my head in the hood because it's dark and I feel like no one can see me. I run back to the door just as he steps out.

We walk down the street, and I put my hands in my pockets like he does, trying not to step in puddles because these aren't my boots. It's a big city, with weird people. Some of them are loud from buildings or they smell bad at corners where they smoke neon cigarettes. I stay close to my doctor and pull my coat around me.

In a market he chats with ladies, smiling and asking stuff. I stare at strange fish in a tank. They're pretty, but not pretty enough not to eat, so I know that's what they're for. We've been to these before, but never on this planet. I don't recognize anyone here except the humans. My doctor's brow bends, and he looks over his shoulder.

"Really though where are we?"

While I wait for him to find out I look up to see if I can see the top of this building, but it's too tall. I put my head all the way back and my hood falls off. There is a lot of traffic, layers of it, maybe seven. I can see the sky, it's kind of cloudy. The tallest building I can see is higher than the last layer. They are sky streets.

Dizzy. I step back and blink to not fall down, but my doctor is gone. He'll be back, he's probably talking to those ladies again. I look down the street and there he is talking. There's a noise in an alley, so I look and see there's an animal thing. It has three eyes and purrs, rubbing against the wall and looking at me.

"Hi." I say.

It coughs, saying 'hi' back. I walk over to it. It jumps. It's a kid animal who wants to play, so it runs away down the alley. Laughing, I chase it.

I chase it back to its house maybe when it jumps up high and onto an awning, and disappears in a window. No more play. Then I look around and know I'm really lost. No doctor. I smell food. I follow the smell. Good smell.

The blue, pudgy vendor gives me a dirty look as he flips food on the skillet. People stand around waiting. I stand around too, eating the smell, but he's really not liking me here. I move on, keep walking, still not recognizing any species. All the buildings are very tall now. I come to steps, lots of steps. I want to walk up them. I see people far up on the steps wearing robes. The traffic layers look like lines of ants crawling above this building, neat and tiny. I'm going to climb these steps, and when I get to the top I'll stay.

_Whoosh whoosh whoosh _

Oh no. I run back, run all the way after my smell, after where I was last. _No, no, no._

I pass the vendor, and the tall building, and the fish, and around the corner, and-

Police Box is gone.


	5. Before, During, and After The Incident

_\- Matt, 2011 -_

He doesn't know what it is. He wants to love them, any of them. He tries so hard, but it never works out. Stacia laughs beneath him as he leaves ticklish kisses down her neck. "God, stop it, Mattie."

What is he doing wrong? They never stick with him any longer than he can stick with them. They're boring after sex, a few nights in, some flirty touches in public. They don't stop being hot, nothing about them changes at all. What the hell is wrong with him? How do people fall in love? Once, and only once did he think it had happened, that he'd finally found a girl he still wanted even after their first thrilling night in bed. Then the second night was dull, and in the morning she was just another girl searching for her clothes.

Stacia cries, squeezing his hand and gasping his name. What he hates is knowing this won't even be worth it in the morning when she's walking around in his shirt, chattering on the phone, expecting him to still be looking at her naked ass. The room will either be too hot or too cold, and the girl is either sweating like a dog beside him or running all the hot water before he even has a chance to use the toilet. Why is every morning so empty like this? Why don't any of them see this fraud incapable of love?

Stacia curls up to him under the sheets, sighing happily. Mechanically, he puts his arm around her shoulders, and wonders what that hollow sound between his ribs is if it isn't a heart.

...

_\- Clint, The Incident -_

Crumbles of glass fall from his hair as he bends over to catch his breath. The elevator is still working despite being stormed by a mob of office workers. His ears are ringing, thankfully blotting out the smooth jazz. Everything about the last two days needs to be blotted out. All of it.

Blood stains the carpet, dabs of it on the door and the 'L' button. He sighs and rests his eyes, planning to retrieve a few arrows without getting killed. Before getting killed. He basically expects death at the end of the ride. _Damn, lot of good you are._

The street front is completely gone, glass spattered across every surface. A sink runs somewhere, and gas lingers morbidly in the air. He ducks behind the reception counter as an alien shrieks in the street. Cursing, he jumps out again realizing they've cornered something.

Stark's student is knelt on the ground and not looking too good. Six hostiles encircle her and one rams a gun against the back of her head. He can't get across the lobby fast enough, and has no arrows left to take them down from here. "Hey!"

The shot goes off. One more added to the list of people he's failed today.

Just as he makes it to the sidewalk, all six aliens raises their blades to their throats, and Clint halts with a grimace as they synchronously commit suicide. The girl is still kneeling, limbs trembling as she catches her breath, the ground below her face a blackened crater.

Slowly, not noticing him, she stands up, steps around the pooling purple blood, and walks away shaking debris from her hair.

_... _

_\- Matt, 2012 -_

_F*k you, you mutie piece trash. And don't bother sending back my stuff just burn it, it's contaminated now._

Matt sits back in his chair. He doesn't move because if he moves it could be regarded as something a mutant would do. The computer screen stares back at him impassively. His heart is at a standstill, his chest aches, and he can't remember how to breathe correctly. Well, acceptably that is. For a human.

Next he's typing madly, forcing words more hateful to break through hers. He goes so far as phrases construed violent before hesitating over the return key. No, he's not that kind of mutant. Not any kind. She's wrong.

The abrupt trill of a new chat message makes him jump. He clicks on the box instantly and breathes a sigh of relief. It's just Madge.

_Hey, Mattie, how are you? _

The icon is very her, shirking the camera she herself holds while one dimpled cheek denotes a sanguine smile. It's exactly the kind of embarrassed selfie he'd expect of her.

_Hey Mags I'm fine. And yourself?_

He hits backspace in the other chat and watches the letters rush into that blinking black doorway.

* * *

**I know that was brief, but I'll be updating more soon. There's a lot of filler between Part Two and Part Three that I'd like to publish. Now that I've seen Civil War, I can get to work on Part Three!**


	6. Grief Counseling

_\- Ace &amp; Clint, 2014 -_

Clint didn't hear about the attack on Xavier's school until October.

HYDRA had been quiet since that trouble outside Brisbane, and since he'd sustained injuries during a mission previous, he had missed that too. He was granted leave, and managed to dodge questions about his destination. No one, not even Nat, contacted him all month just like he'd asked. Besides, he thought, they didn't need him that much.

Pulling into the tower's garage, taking the long, thoughtful elevator ride up to his suite, he was pleased to see Natasha already waiting for him. Pleasure gave way to seriousness, however, as soon as he read her body language. "Who got it?"

"Ace." Her hands were at her sides, and the thumb of her left hand ran back and forth over the tips of her fingernails. "HYDRA actually did it."

She reported everything they knew while Clint rummaged through luggage for his cell phone. The school was gone, and for a while the place looked abandoned. HYDRA and the military were predictably tight-lipped about their involvement, but the losses on HYDRA's side were clear. Ace hadn't answered her phone in weeks.

"Construction's begun- they've cleared the wreckage and laid the foundation. Tony tried to send relief funds, but apparently he knows the woman in charge of the rebuild. Bad blood there." Natasha pursed her lips.

The phone didn't pick up the first day, but the second day when her voice came through it was nothing short of a miracle. "Ace, hey, we've been trying to get in touch all month. Are you alright?"

"Oh," she sounded distant or maybe just embarrassed, "it's been off. I forgot to charge it."

"Well, we've been worried about you. Tony even flew out there to see what happened."

"He did?" she sounded alarmed.

"Ace," Clint tried to determine what Tony was gesturing to him then gave up, "look, how about you and I meet in person?"

There was silence, long enough for him to ask if she was still there. "I'm here."

"Are you guys alright? How's Vince?" Still no reply came, so he opened his mouth to again suggest that they meet, when she began to cry.

_ ..._

On a bench outside the boarded up business sits a girl he's never seen before. Her jeans are loose and her hair pulled back in a failing pony tail, strands haloing around her face. Pulling up to the curb, he kills the engine with a lump in his throat.

Over the phone Ace had balked at the idea of Tony or any of them stopping by the country club where the students and staff temporarily reside. Clint imagined cots in the dining room and pool house like a refugee camp, but Ace said they had bungalows and the kids were treating it like summer camp. She agreed to meet him after the headmaster's funeral.

"Ace?"

Gradually, the girl turns her head to look at him, and his heart plummets. The face she's wearing is hers, not an illusion, not a shift. She's Ace and yet he's never met this Ace. Before she breaks he sits beside her on the bench and pulls her to him with one practiced arm. Her face presses into his shoulder, fingers digging into his jacket, and he bites his tongue as she weeps.

"What am I doing here?" she asks between gasps. "Why am I not with him? Why isn't he here with me?"

Clint knows the best he can do is grip her hard while fighting back his own tears. Silent shrieks disappear into the leather of his jacket as she shivers like a frightened animal. "This isn't real. This can't be real."

With a sharp inhalation she pulls back, wiping her tears from her face. Then she covers her mouth, showing the skin of her hands is cracked, tears streaming despite her best efforts to calm down. He wipes them away for her, licking tears of his own off his lips.

"I'm sorry," she holds the collar of his jacket, "I'm sorry for freaking out as soon as you get here."

"No, no, don't apologize-"

"It was magic when you called," her voice is breathless, a single tone, like it's about to give out. "I'd completely forgotten…"

She turns her face to the ground and swears, spitting the curse onto the concrete. "I can't believe you called."

"I should have called sooner." Had I known, he thinks.

She lifts her head again, but looks over his shoulder like she's afraid to make eye contact. "I'm sorry, I've just- I've just been…"

He puts his hand on the side of her face, and she ducks her head back to his jacket, pulls her knees up, and appears to be making herself as small as possible.

"I'm here, sweetheart." He presses his hand to the back of her head, and tries to keep his voice from cracking. "Don't apologize for crying, just cry. Damn anyone who judges you. You want to get in the car?"

She shakes her head and pulls away again. "No, no, I can't-"

"Ace," he swallows the lump in his throat, "come back with me. Come to the tower, you can stay in your room there."

She shakes her head adamantly. "The kids. They'll think I abandoned them, I'm not doing that."

He turns his hips, takes her by both shoulders and lowers his face to hold her focus. "Look at me. You need time to heal. Time to yourself- Look at me," he cups her cheek, "the best I can do is to make sure not to lose you too. I'm not losing you too."

Ace, who had been staring at him glassy-eyed and rapt, covers her mouth and it begins all over again.

Now, they sit on the hood of the car, Ace still shaking. He's gotten used to her breakdowns every eight to ten seconds. The gaps are getting longer though. He's deduced from the cracked hands and pallor that she hasn't been eating properly- her healing factor can eat away at her faster than a normal metabolism when not maintained.

Clint's face itches from the tightened skin. "C'mon, you're getting in the car, and I'm getting some food in you." He pats her shoulder and squeezes it. "And then I might drive you back to the school." He moves a hair behind her ear. "Or just take you somewhere else entirely."

With a shuddering sigh, she shakes her head. "I've been gone too long already."

He watches as she straightens out the cuffs of her sweater- doesn't recognize the sweater, realizes it's Vince's. "They'll be alright for another hour, you need a break."

She pauses and just stares at her sleeves. "I ran out of clean laundry."

"That happens."

Looking up at him, her voice quivers. "Clint?"

"Don't think about it." He starts taking his jacket off. "Here, I'll trade you."

She pulls the edges of Vince's sweater closer. "No."

"Then don't think about it. I'm sorry, that's the best I can do." He puts his jacket back on and taps his knuckle on the hood of the car. "C'mon. Let's get out of here."

She's buckled in and he's reaching for the ignition when she says. "We got married."

"What? When?"

The following sigh rattles through her. Instead of asking again, he takes one of the hands pressed between her knees, and holds it without looking away.

They go to a drive thru because he doesn't think she can handle a sit down place. He orders seven of the biggest things on the menu, and when they drive away he looks upon the trove of paper bags and drink holders in her lap with some satisfaction. He finds a park, and parks under a brilliant gold maple that drops leaves on the hood almost instantly. Ace seems comforted by the enclosure of the car, and makes no move to get out. Food stays in her hands at all times, she eats a fry when he offers it to her, she bites into her burger when he looks at her, and she forgets altogether that one of the milkshakes is hers. If he looks away for too long, she won't move again until he looks back.

Apparently, a teacher she calls Ororo has been her main means of support. The two of them monitor curfew, get up during the night to calm nightmares, get glasses of water, and address other nocturnal issues. Ororo makes time to talk to her about Vince, so Ace tries not to wake her anymore when things happen in the night.

Clint scrutinizes her physical tells, setting his mouth in a grim line when he realizes she's being very guarded in that respect too. What she doesn't say, she doesn't show, and he knows there's a lot she's not saying.

"What happens to it all?" she asks after a minutes-long silence. "His enjoyments, his frustrations, the plans he made. Where does all of that go?"

Clint parts his lips, feeling like this is a question he should and can answer. When he stops himself, Ace crumples up the sandwich wrapper and tosses it back into the bag.

"Those few times when Vince was at the tower and you were at work," Clint drops his own trash in the cup holder, "we used to hang out."

She stops tidying to give him her full attention.

"He'd get hungry and sneak into the kitchen for a snack- like we didn't all know he was there." He sucks ketchup off his thumb. "So one day, I waited for him to come through that archway just like he always did at three o'clock, and I nailed him with a water gun."

There's a gleam in her eyes that could be anger or amusement. She was pretty protective of Vince, which was why he'd never told her before.

"He was a little surprised, even more surprised when Steve jumped around the corner and sprayed me with one too. We gave Vinny his own super blaster, and chased each other up and down the stairs for 'bout an hour."

The smile this story incites is exactly what he was going for. When he feels that cottony sensation in his head, he figures she's reliving the memory with him. "Anyway, things were going great until Tony found out what we were up to. He got his own gun and started making up rules until I squirted water in his mouth while he was talking. Vince just rolled onto the floor laughing at that point, so…we all hosed him down until we ran out of ammo. He never stopped laughing, just sat there all soggy and hugging himself. Your boyfriend was a dork."

She laughs, and he turns soon enough to see that she's not looking at him, not exactly. More like through him, watching the memory play out. Then the look vanishes, her smile drops, and her brow bends. He said "was".


	7. Unresolved

_\- Ace &amp; Clint, March 2015 -_

Every time is like the first- he pulls up to see a woman leant against a tree or sitting on the curb, gradually sinking into the pavement.

Today might be a trick of the eye- not with his eyesight- to say she appears lighter, a weight lifted off her shoulders to some degree. She stands up when she sees the car- a good sign- and walks to the driver's side window- not a good sign. He rolls down the window and leans out, but before he says anything, her lips part. "Logan left."

Clint looks down. "Well, we knew it was coming eventually." She nods slowly, and he watches her do it. "Come on."

* * *

Clint pays for my drink, knee bouncing, hands clasped with one elbow resting on the bar. "What are you going to do? Just stay?"

I run my finger over the lip of the bottle, the flesh of my thumb sucking into the opening. "They need the help."

"Ace, the point of having a suite at the Tower is that you don't have to just stay nights." He nudges me gently with his elbow. "You're wearing yourself down."

Patrons murmur and mumble- a feeble few at this hour. The wreck at the end is hunched over a burger and a pint while the tender watches him restlessly. "I'm helping. Just until they're back on their feet."

"But Logan's gone."

"So?"

"So who picks up his workload?"

My hand slides down the neck, erasing the condensation. I lift the beer to my lips. "What workload?"

The city itself is overbearing and loud, making the sixty-something floor of the Tower a private island of solace. Clint gave them no warning of my visit, five people I haven't seen in seven months, so silence stuns the room all at once as I stand awkwardly before the elevator, bracing for an attack.

Tony breaks the ice with, "Coffee cake? Still warm."

He then fills in the air with babble, and Steve counters it to keep the conversation moving. Bruce squeezes my knee, and when Natasha arrives from whatever task she'd been attending to- damp hair; a shower- the pleasure in her smile is authentic. The scientists were only supposed to be seated for a minute- tests to run, energy signals to track down- and when they do leave with evident despair, Thor takes their place. No solemnity from the celestial warrior, no humble pat on the shoulder or sage reminder that death is a gateway to the beauteous afterlife. No, he circles behind the couch and pulls my hair before sitting down.

When the name Baron Strucker reaches my ears, it's a greeting. Good omen or bad, I do not hesitate to suit up and buckle in. Storm and the students can bear the loss of me for a day.

As with all missions with these guys, I'm surprised no one's died yet. While the bunker turns out to be a dead end- and really, how many bunkers can HYDRA _have?_\- the derelict cabin at the edge of the cliff turns out to be the entrance to a HYDRA Narnia within the mountain; eight miles from the godforsaken bunker.

No Strucker, but three other Heads, a sea of cantankerous soldiers, a flurry of unnerved scientists, and a jumbling of file clerks and desk jockeys. Without being assigned, I take on the soldiers myself while Hulk bars the escape routes further down the cliff. The skirmish is hectic and lengthy for an Avenger endeavor. It takes two hours to restrain, confine, disarm, and beat the crap out of every spec of personnel on the premises. The compound is big, but the spaces are small, and it's in a mountain so there's no bursting through walls to escape grenade blasts and chemical fires. I enjoy it profusely.

That is until three goons have Clint pinned to the wall with one hitting him repeatedly in the stomach. Invisible, I crash my armored fist against the man's temple, reappear, and beat off the other two until they crumple to the floor- unconscious, maybe clinging to life by a thread.

"What the hell was that?" Clint's look at me with intense disbelief, doubled over but not puking. "Don't do that again."

"Sorry," I say to cut the discussion short.

Stunned, he leans back against the wall and pushes himself to his feet before I can lend a hand. "You did that just for me, didn't you?"

I don't respond, so he holds me with a look, still regaining his breath. "Never do that."

"It's in the job title, Dorkeye." Still, I shift uncomfortably.

Shrieks come from down the hall. Muttering to himself, "Smart mouth named after a playing card," Clint pushes off the wall and steps over the men, retrieving his bow from the floor.

Another hour gets everyone marched out or carted away, and we pause to oversee the removal of weapons small and large, deadly and deadlier. There will be a field day once all the data is mined.

In the quinjet, Bruce fidgets in his thermal, his opera exuding headphones tamping down a furrow of curls. After nine years together, he and Hulk have still not resolved their issues with one another. The thunderous footsteps that had been pursuing me up the ramp come to a halt so Thor can clap me on the back. "You make your ancestors proud."

Without thinking, I say, "My ancestors abandoned me to die."

"Then they quiver in their graves," he replies amiably before heading to his seat.

I smile.


	8. Revels

_\- Avengers, 2015 – Age of Ultron: Party Scene -_

HYDRA has fallen, Strucker imprisoned, and Loki's scepter retrieved. Meanwhile I was at home fighting with a malfunctioning dishwasher while Storm and Emma were having a heated discussion on the floor above me. They omitted a lot, the blank spaces loud and obvious. I just tried to ignore it.

Both a formal and informal invite told me to get my ass to the shindig at the Tower- the informal was definitely from Clint. I may have been absent in their triumphant moment, but I was still required to bask in the glory of it. Clint reassured me that the violence had been fitting and Hulk smashed many things.

The quantity of noise is an affront, but the music melts away the stress I built up in the elevator. The maze of people presents an unyielding barrier, but I don't stop to take a breath before diving in, propelling myself to the sight of something familiar. Don't recognize the barman, but he knows me by name and serves me something neat. Crossing my arms, I lean onto the counter and mark my regret in coming. It's no matter that the school's rebuilt, there still seem to be a thousand chores left unattended whenever I stop to sit down. I took an extra hour just to get ready- makeup, hair, whatever would hide the bags under my eyes and the slouch in my step- because of course Tony invited fashionable society people. There were a few people dancing in jeans and cotton tops, but I don't feel like I'm in their league.

My hair is swept over one shoulder, blocking my view when someone casually brushes my arm and leans in. "What are you getting, gorgeous?"

I turn my head. "Stop that."

"Oh my god, it's you." Tony looks flabbergasted- he's only flabbergasted when he's faking.

I raise an eyebrow. "I know you're not flirting with strangers behind Pepper's back."

"Apparently I'm _not _flirting with a stranger." He finishes the last of his champagne and smacks his lips. "You clean up good, is this Ralph Lauren?" I snort and he grins. "Glad you could make it."

I clutch the glass in my hand. "I don't know how long I can stay."

"Well, at least until the after party. That's when we really let our hair down." He flips a stray lock of my hair with one finger. _She must've been a gorgeous bride._

Heat flushes my face and I duck my head so my hair will fall forward.

"Shit. I thought that."

"Sorry, I couldn't help-" Why am I apologizing?

Tony presses a hand to the small of my back and gestures to my drink. "We need another one of these."

"No, we're fine," I tell the barman. Turning to Tony, "Don't worry about it."

He keeps eye contact while biting his cheek. "And here you were hoping for a distracting evening."

Attempting to staunch an emotional outburst, I smile broadly and look into my drink. "Well, you did try to flirt me up."

"Yes, and I was rudely rejected."

Sighing, I turn and face the room. "I'm too old for you anyway."

After a few more drinks I find Steve, feeling livened up enough to appear heady and game for anything. When I approach he's laughing with some lovely stranger, but when he sees me he grabs me by the shoulder like he was expecting me and lets me in on the joke. After a while the lovely stranger goes away.

"She seemed nice," I say. "Why not?"

"Not really looking." He takes a sip from his glass, looks down at me, and raises his eyebrows. "You look fantastic, by the way. Does Tony know you're here?"

"Yes, he already hit on me." A strange tang haunts the air and I sniff Steve's glass. "What do you have in there?"

He looks sternly into his glass. "Something Asgardian I'm told." He gestures to the pony-tailed humanoid standing a few feet away, and the man turns at the mention of his home planet. "She wants to know what you put in my drink."

Thor raises his eyebrows and smiles slightly, looking proud. "Oh, it's a warrior's brew, distilled for over a thousand years-"

"Do you have any more?" I ask.

He and Steve exchange glances, and Steve smiles wryly. "She can out-lift me."

Thor presses his tongue to his teeth, pulls a small silver flask out of his high-collared burgundy jacket, and puts his hand out for my glass. Meager drops of clear liquid splash onto the ice, and he hands it back without another word. Steve sucks in his breath, but both watch with faint curiosity as I take a reasonable sip. Nothing much at first- "_Holy_ crap."

Thor chuckles. I drink some more- like having an Arctic breeze blast through my brain and wash out everything that hurts. "How much do you usually drink in one sitting?"

"One does try not to drink more than, say, this much," Thor casually holds up the flask, "especially not without a substantial meal."

Steve sees me contemplating and hands me his glass. "By all means."

Once I'm sure he means it, I accept his offer then down the last of mine.

Everyone but Bruce is currently engaged, so I feel justified in giving him a long hug. They make him feel awkward, and by the time I pull away he's caught on that I'm teasing him. "I thought you'd be even less of a party person than me."

"Nerdy Banner sitting in the corner at a college kegger," I appraise, "still nursing his Diet Coke and a volume of Attenborough."

"Oh," he buries his hands in his pockets, "you're cruel."

I laugh. "You're an easy mark and I'm feeling slow tonight. Sorry."

"No, no, keep laughing at me, it makes it look like I'm fun to be around." He nods to a corner of the room. "Have you met Helen yet?"

"No, I don't think I have." A slight Korean woman in a navy dress listens politely as Clint mumbles. "Clint's being boring over there isn't he?"

"Well, they've been talking quite a while." Bruce swallows and the edge of his mouth quirks upward. "Who would he be at a kegger?"

"The shirtless mook with paint on his belly and boxers on his head dancing on a table." I adjust my shoe strap. "Not even drunk, just stupid."

Like Steve, Clint shows no surprise at seeing me as he puts his arm out and drapes it over my shoulder. "This is Dr. Cho. Cho, Ace."

"Helen," she introduces herself. "It's a pleasure to finally meet you."

"Likewise," I say as I sit beside Clint on the couch- he's perched on the back with his shoes on the armrest. "I hear Accident Prone got blasted, but Bruce says you fixed him."

"Yeah, yeah," Clint opens his jacket and lifts his shirt, "she grew my skin back, see?"

The skin above his hip bone and stretching onto his abdomen is a pale shade of pink compared to the skin around it. I put my hand on the spot, unabashed since we're all familiar with each other. "That is incredible, so seamless." No emotion transfers. "Is it his own skin?"

Helen tilts her head to the side with a look of pride. "I don't know what Bruce told you, but unlike a skin graft it uses simulacra to encourage cellular regeneration in the damaged tissue. His nerve ends might not work like they used to, but we're excited that he took to the process so well."

"Can't feel a thing," Clint adds. "Poke it."

"I'm not poking your new skin," I tug his shirt back down.

Helen and I continue discussing the science until another guest approaches her. Clint and I walk to the bar for a beer, then to the windows leering over Manhattan.

"You were really into all that medical yak." Clint says. "Or I've just never seen you be that polite."

I let the Asgardian liquor corrode my reservations. "We had that technology where I grew up; you could buy an over-the-counter version of it even. It's good to see it finally on Earth. She's my new favorite person."

"So you know about advanced technologies and you're keeping them all to yourself?" he teases.

"Well I don't _know_ it. And I was a kid, it's not like this occurred to me when I came back." I poke him through his jacket and ask in a low voice. "Does Laura know?"

He shakes his head. "I only call if something's wrong. And I'm all healed up, so nothing's wrong."

I wait until he's had a little more beer before asking, "Are you going home tonight?"

"Tomorrow." He takes another drink. "You are staying the night, right?"

I look down at my toes, sheathed in black leather, my heels four inches off the ground. "I don't like being away from the school. Anything could happen while I'm gone."

Clint inhales deep, filling out his chest and lifting his shoulders. "You realize 'anything' has already happened. We finished HYDRA three days ago, and…are you mad at me?"

I glance up. "What? No. I'm still worried, Clint. Besides, it still feels like Vince is there sometimes, so I sleep easier there than I do here." I press my tongue hard against the roof of my mouth. When that doesn't work, I turn my head to face the window so no one in the room at least will see me lose it.

Clint remains exactly as he was, but turns to face the window as well. "I can walk you downstairs whenever you feel like-"

"I knew I wasn't ready to come, but," I swallow a gulp of air, "you said I should, so I came. I've been dying to see you all, I just…can't function properly anymore."

"You'll get there," he looks at me sideways, "you will."

The noise spins through my head, glasses clinking, feet stomping, jewelry jangling, hors d' oeuvre trays clunking. Curses, guffaws, big talk, small talk, sleepy yawns, annoyed tirades. Outside, car horns, sirens, shouting, crashing, revving, running, whistling, rushing. Everything overlaps until it makes a smooth, humming backdrop of life.

I step backward, away from the glass, and smile weakly. "I trust you."

The rest of the night is like the past year didn't happen. I drink often, eat often, and try to get Thor dancing- he steps on my toes twice on purpose, so I punch him in the arm. When the last guest leaves the building and the music ends, Col. Rhodes, Maria, and us Avengers gravitate toward the coffee table. Helen Cho picks the seat nearest Thor, but can barely keep her eyes open. Steve should have given her his coat instead of Maria.

I'm sitting on the floor with my dress tucked between my knees when Tony flicks a poker chip at me from across the table. I stick my tongue out, he sticks out his, and I'm reaching for an eggroll to lob at him when my phone buzzes.

"Already, Hardware?" Tony asks as I dig my phone out from under a takeout box. "Tell'em I said you have the night off."

It's a text from Scott. Clint nudges my foot under the table, but I shake my head. Getting up, I straighten out my dress and search for my jacket. "You guys have a lovely after party. Tony, Maria's going to win every hand, give up now."

There's a general chuckle, Tony fakes a fold by throwing down a napkin instead of his cards, and Rhodey finds one of my shoes under the couch. Natasha hands me the other one. Clint lances a chopstick at my legs.

"I'll walk you to the elevator," Steve offers, getting to his feet.

"Oh, you don't have to."

He waves me off and walks around the couches.

"You'll be alert for a few hours more, but make sure you're near a bed," says Thor, waving that flask around. "The crash is sudden."

"I would imagine," I reply, strapping on my shoes. "Don't stomp on any feet or get into trouble while I'm gone. That goes for all of you."

The group laughs or derides me playfully, and final goodbyes are said. True to his word, Steve walks me back to the elevators, keeping up a light conversation until we reach the door. "You'll let us know if you need anything, right?"

"Um, sure. Sorry, I don't know what that means." I brush my hair out of my face, chuckling a little stupidly.

Steve smiles. "I mean in the long run, but if there's anything you need help with tonight," he nods at the phone in my hand. "While we're all in one place."

"No, no, it's nothing like that. Just a- some chore or household issue, probably I think." I sound like a light-headed fool. Must be the drink's fault. "But, thank you. For the offer."

"Well, then let me know if you ever need someone to talk to."

"Yeah, sure." I press the elevator call button, although JARVIS usually calls it for me. "I always like talking to you."

"I like talking to you too," Steve says honestly.

"No problem. You're…comfortable." No better word could come to mind? I step hurriedly into the elevator.

"Thanks for being here tonight, Ace." His smile is beautiful in a way that makes me feel proud to be a member of the same species. "You know you always have a place here."

My stupid mouth clamps shut, so I just smile and he smiles back until the doors close. I don't see any of them again until Sokovia has turned to rubble.


End file.
